


The Turksitter

by copperdream



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, Innuendo, M/M, Parody, Sexual Humor, Sexual Tension, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:28:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29945175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperdream/pseuds/copperdream
Summary: 15-year-old Cloud's Test of Sanity begins when his butthat of a boss assigns him as the personal assistant of a certain cocky red-haired Turk, who just so happens to be under suspicion of "treason".
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife, Reno/Cloud Strife, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Cloud Strife
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Turksitter

Cloud was minding his own business when Aerith, the resident on-and-off-again captive, exploded into the employee lounge like a bat out of hell.

At this point, it was routine.

Aerith would escape Shinra HQ—girl was an escape artist, a legend among most of the staff whom, on the down low, admired her trickery—and the Turks would find her and bring her back. Apparently, she kept to the same places: her home, a run-down church, an orphanage, and various hubs in Sector 8 where she would sell flowers. Funny thing was, she was like a mouse. Although the Turks knew where she may be, they tended to arrive at the wrong place at the wrong time. Somehow she would consistently evade them.

But within months, they would drag her back to HQ, and the cycle would continue.

So the rumours went.

Cloud found it kinda creepy how the Turks kept abducting a young girl. He didn’t know the details, but figured he was better off not knowing.

To Cloud’s luck, she ran right at him, stopping at his table to slam her palms flat on the surface. His empty plate slid a little from the impact.

“You can fight, right?” Her green eyes were wide and focussed. “I have to get out of here.”

“Not my concern.” Cloud shrugged one shoulder. He doubted he had the friendliest face in the room, so why had she homed in on him? Oh, right. “Look, I know I look strong, but I—”

Reno appeared from the doorway she’d flung out of. He had on a madman’s smile that hinted how bad he wanted to lose his shit on her.

“You’re useless!” Aerith whipped around and disappeared down the stairwell, her long braid sailing behind her.

Uh, rude.

Cloud watched Reno disappear after Aerith. The Turk was known for his laziness, but his movements were like silk. He was also known both for his sharp tongue and for being a sadistic twat—but all the Turks had to be dicks to some extent, as it was a requirement of, well, being a Turk. Anyway, Reno was basically a human cat.

He seemed like a pain in the ass, and Cloud was glad he didn’t have to work with him. 

* * *

  
“You will work with Reno starting in one week.”

President Shinra was a gluttonous, spamfaced, potatoheaded dweeb.

Cloud felt a twitch in his right eyebrow. “Sir—may I ask why?” For the president to call him forth personally, this was suspicious. Cloud was a fifteen-year-old nobody—just another cog in the mako-churning machine. He’d only joined Shinra Corp as a trooper six months ago. His previous trainer had called him “greenhorn” and although he didn’t know what the hell that meant, he was pretty confident it wasn’t synonymous with “master swordsman”. He hadn’t made soldier yet, after all, which was kind of his life’s goal and all.

President Shinra steepled his fingers together like a wise prophet or a mob boss or a mix of the two, and leaned forward with squinted, beady eyes. “This is a sensitive matter. Classified, as in you tell no one.”

Cloud knew what “classified” meant, thanks.

“Of course, sir,” he said, just to humour the living muffin man.

“To anyone you encounter, especially Reno himself, you are his new personal assistant.”

“Like . . . a secretary?”

“It’s a loose term. You are going to be whatever he decides to make of you. I suspect it will be something like a ‘whipping boy’. Reno’s not big on being shadowed or assisted.”

Cloud clenched and unclenched his jaw.

What—the—hell?

“Your mission is to spy on Reno. Do whatever you must to keep in his good graces, and eventually gain his trust.”

He had to play schoolboy-in-awe with a sociopath? The Turks knifed people for simply sneezing in their direction—ah, so the rumours said.

Why couldn’t he have been assigned to someone he respected, like the renowned Sephiroth? Someone he could actually learn from? If he assisted Sephiroth, he’d become a soldier in no time. That man was a damn legend. Cloud was confident that if he even stood next to Sephiroth, he would become stronger through— _osmosis_ or something. Sephiroth was that amazing. He oozed amazingness and it had to be contagious and—

“You will report back to me, personally, at the end of the month.”

Cloud snapped back into his sad reality.

“I expect concrete progress and useful information at that time,” the president said.

Cloud gave a quick nod. Still, this could be a useful stepping stone for advancing his position. “Sir, thank you for this opportunity. What sort of information would be most useful, so I can cater conversations to what is necessary?”

“Anything alluding to Reno being an enemy of ShinRa.”

“An enemy, sir?”

“Yes. One who opposes us.”

Cloud knew what the fuck “enemy” meant, thanks.

He blew a strand of hair out of his face. “I will report back, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

Cloud headed for the door, and then paused. He turned back around. “Sir, if I may.”

“Yes?”

“Why me?”

“Because you are a nobody, and Reno gives little thought to nobodies.”

Cloud saluted the president, and left.

He didn’t go far before he leaned against the wall outside President Shinra’s office and dropped his face in his hands. 

A nobody, huh?

Fuck. He’d been in Midgar for six months, hadn’t made soldier during the testing, and now he was supposed to be a Turk’s bitch? What kind of situation was this? His mother wanted him to write to her, but he hadn’t yet. He vowed he wouldn’t write until he was a soldier, and his naive brain had thought it would be simple because of how hard he’d trained. He had more determination and dedication than anyone else had, and yet, he was still just an entry level trooper. 

He could see Tifa in his mind’s eye. The look on her face as he’d left Nibelheim six months ago. Like she knew he’d try and fail, and she couldn’t do anything to protect him from it. She hadn’t believed in him, had she? And she’d been right. She could see right through him.

He breathed out through his nose, pushed off the wall, and carried on down the hall.

No. He couldn’t sink.

Stepping stones. This mission had been given to him by the president himself, and although his name had probably been drawn out a hat labeled “cannon fodder”, he would take this opportunity to show everyone just what he was made of.

Bitches.


End file.
